


Oh, Oh, Jackie-O

by gala_apples



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - different career, Established Relationship, Flirting, Multi, Service Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 16:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15667338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: Gavin is experienced enough to know that every person has kinks, and every kink can be fed in unexpected ways. He just didn't plan on his stupid klepto cat prompting a true smorgasbord of future enjoyment.





	Oh, Oh, Jackie-O

**Author's Note:**

> written for the flirting prompt for seasonofkink.
> 
> Based on an old tumblr post of this article: [here.](https://mashable.com/2016/03/20/cat-steals-underwear/#w_057z6Y28qL)

This is what his life has come to. Buying a box of a thousand staples with a credit card so he can put up flyers at midnight. Christ.

It’s not like Gavin doesn’t understand the individual components of this task. He has to use his credit card on a minuscule purchase because he’s just figured out he’s probably not getting his damage deposit back and he was depending on that cash, so now funds have to be future him’s problem, not current him’s. He’s doing this at midnight because he’s been getting some late running jobs lately, and midnight’s the only time he has. Everyone and their cousin is having a wedding party that runs noon ‘til eleven, and he can’t exactly leave before Aunt Fran gets tanked on open bar wine. Families like pictures of funny shit, it’s always those prints that sell, not the posed stuff. And he has to put up flyers because Jackie-O is a dirty pervert, and he’s got to fix things. It’s a must, morally and ...otherwise. It’s enough to make Gavin say fuck his life.

He makes it from the twenty four hour Walmart to his neighbourhood relatively quickly, considering he’s on a bloody bike. Uber is only an option when you have funds, after all. Once he’s home-ish, he has to staple his flyers up all over the fucking place. Jackie’s a fast little fuck of a cat, her running range is 30mph, and unbeknownst to him until recently, she’s apparently been an indoor-outdoor cat. So even if it’s more likely her theft was close to home, Gavin has to post a wide net just to be sure.

When he runs out of flyers, Gavin goes home. It feels good to have a job well done. It feels more than good. Somewhere out there there’s a man he’s helping who isn’t even aware yet. That’s the kind of shit Gavin’s spankbank is made out of. He pours a little extra food for Jackie-O, washes his face, and heads to bed to spill one out.

Thankfully Gavin doesn’t have to wait long for part two. By the middle of the next day he’s got a voicemail message. Not Gavin’s preferred method of communication, but he’ll make do. 

**Wanna pick up my shit where should we meet?**

Safety would dictate a public place. Stranger danger, excetera. The problem with that is he's incredibly busy. Going all the way to somewhere to stay there for who knows how long because the guy might be late? massive waste of time when he could just stay home, work on his project and the guy can knock on the door. It'll take about thirty seconds to hand him his shit and lock the door. And if he’s a stalker, does it really matter? Gavin’s moving, he’ll be gone in three days.

Not to mention he’ll have to do something lame like plan his outfit so the guy knows what to look for, or send some strange creeper a selfie.

Not to mention the look on the guy’s face when receiving all his presumed lost forever stuff? Probably enough to make Gavin pop a boner. Much easier to deal with that in the confines of your own place, than in a public space. Getting arrested for lewd and lascivious looks bad for his resume and his visa.

So Gavin texts the caller his address -because he lives in the year 2018, thanks- as well as a time range to come over. Most of tomorrow is going to be dedicated to Photoshop, so he’s not particularly insistent about a specific hour minute second.

The door’s knocked on around eleven. Gavin double checks that his cursor is nowhere near any possible delete, cancel or undo option -Jackie-O only did that to him once, but once is enough- and heads to open it. It’s a surprise to open it on three people. Not like a dad and the kids he had to drag along with him as one of many items on a Honey Do list. No, it’s three individual adults. 

“Did Jackie-O really break into multiple places? That clever little shithead.” He’ll seriously have to figure out some way to stop him, before he gets into a situation he can’t get out of.

“We live together,” the blue haired bespectacled woman says.

Gavin blurts out, “must be a pretty tense situation if you can't let one roommate pick up everyone's stuff without fear of goings on."

"Couldn't be more wrong. We're on our way to brunch." Figures that the guy’s reply is more aggressive. He looks like the type.

"Oh, I love alcohol for breakfast, it's great. Who's the couple and who's stuck with the blind date?" Not that Gav would turn down any of the three. Just looking at them makes him want to do stuff for them.

"We're all dating, actually,” comes from the redhead.

"So- huh. So like uh, how- Wait, no. Don’t mind me my brain just went daft or a second. None of my skin how your thing works. Wait, do you call it a throuple?"

"Only if you're an idiot," the man says.

“So where’d you make reservations?"

All three blank stare at each other, so Gavin takes it upon him to explain. "This area is super hipster asshole. You're never gonna get in anywhere.” That’s why the rent is skyrocketing, after all. Mother fucking hipsters.

Something comes to his mind. Normally he'd keep it there, a fantasy to get off on later. Gavin’s already doing too much for the people he cares about. He can’t afford to clutter his time table with servicing strangers. That’s one step too far in his lifestyle. That said, something's telling him to talk. There’s a vibe the three are giving off that’s really drawing him in. 

“You lot could have a nosh here? I make top omelettes. Serve it with some bevvies and it's almost like some organic, artisanal, hand picked by blind monks café. Except less beard.”

"You have facial hair,” the redhead points out.

"I’d still be less beard. Trust me." More than once a potential client has wanted to meet in one of those boujee places. Eight out of ten men have a groomed beard as long as their collarbone.

"Uh... Give us one second." 

They legitly huddle. It's almost funny, in a footie match kind of way. When they break, the blue haired woman speaks. “So we're going to pass on the home cooked breakfast.” Gavin deflates. “But we will go to dinner with you tonight.”

"What?"

“Yeah we eat out a lot. It's a problem.”

“No! I meant what do you mean, dinner.”

The redheaded woman explains, “it seemed like you were instigating a date. We've decided to try it. You’re cute and you seem like you could be interesting. Not a lot of people would post that kind of notice.”

Well, it’s not as good as making a meal, and all the waiting hand and foot that comes with that. But a date with these lovely people will still be the highlight of his week. Besides, there are opportunities for helping at a restaurant. Maybe Gavin’ll hold the door open for someone. Maybe he’ll tuck in someone’s chair. Oh shit, maybe he’ll cover the bill.

“It’s a date. It’s definitely a date.”

“Awesome.”

“And now that we’ve done everything in the wrong order, introductions. I’m Meg, she’s Lindsay, and growly bear there is Michael. Don’t let it put you off if he’s snarly tonight. The meaner he is, the more he cares.”

Huh. Gavin’s never tested a masochist aspect to his service kink, but it’ll be fun to see if it works for him. “Interesting.”

“We’ve really got to find somewhere to eat, before I end up eating someone’s face off,” Lindsay says, apologetically. 

“Right, yeah, of course.” From the couch, Gavin grabs the two plastic bags full of other people’s clothes. At this point he’s assuming it’s mostly Michael’s, though boxer briefs and knee high socks is a great look on any woman. 

Meg peers into the bag she takes. “Oh, very neat and tidy.”

“Yeah,” Gavin says as neutrally as he can. Inside he’s preening, a fission of excitement running through him that Meg’s proud of his work.

“You’re nicer than us. Pretty sure I would have just jammed everything into a garbage bag, not folded everything.”

Well, Gavin’s not about to explain the personal satisfaction he got out of folding each stolen article and daydreaming right in the middle of the living room floor about how effusive the property owner’s praise would be. That sort of admission is a second date kind of deal. “Thanks.”

“We’ll call you later, around sixish? Michael has your number, obviously.”

Gavin makes the appropriate noise of agreement. He’s pleased by the goodbyes he gets. Meg kisses his cheek. Lindsay gives him a hug. Even Michael, supposedly grumpy Michael, takes the time to claps him on the shoulder. And then they’re gone, and Gavin is left alone with his cat, and his work, and his plans of the most serviceable restaurant dinner he can possibly provide.


End file.
